


Not a Voice, You're Just a Ringing In My Ear

by zara2148



Series: Praying for the Wicked on the Weekend [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst and Romance, Blood and Injury, Comfort/Angst, Darth Maul Needs a Hug, Established Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, M/M, Neck Kissing, Self-Esteem Issues, Self-Harm, Yes I use about 5 angst tags, btw maul does get that hug!, minor but still there - Freeform, one character bandaging up another, tags probably make this sound darker than it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-08
Updated: 2020-09-08
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:22:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,027
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26353369
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zara2148/pseuds/zara2148
Summary: The past doesn’t always rest easy, hurts don’t always go away. Obi-Wan bandages Maul late one night, and tries to heal deeper wounds while he’s at it.
Relationships: Obi-Wan Kenobi/Darth Maul
Series: Praying for the Wicked on the Weekend [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1872874
Comments: 24
Kudos: 202





	Not a Voice, You're Just a Ringing In My Ear

**Author's Note:**

  * For [coldishcase](https://archiveofourown.org/users/coldishcase/gifts), [Just_a_Loth_Cat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Just_a_Loth_Cat/gifts).



> Today on _These two are perfect for each other and need the healing power of fanfic to work it out_ : SADNESS! AND COMFORT! But still very bittersweet by the end. Thanks again to CC and our discussions — some thoughts of theirs on Obi-Wan worked their way in here. And added thanks for looking this over -- hope you're not feeling too burned out.
> 
> Technically, the title lyrics are from Frozen 2’s “Into the Unknown.” However, it was covered by Panic at the Disco, so I declare that IT COUNTS.

Obi-Wan notices the comlink Maul sleeps with and thinks nothing of it. Ruler of a lawless kingdom that he is, Maul sometimes needs to address urgent issues at inconvenient hours. Obi-Wan adopted a similar habit during the Clone Wars, primed into a constant state of alertness even when he rested. 

Still, a groan escapes Obi-Wan more often than not when the comlink’s ringing disturbs their sleep. Certain habits slipped away as the Clone Wars receded into the past; immediate wakefulness was one of the later casualties, dying a quiet death in Tatooine’s deserts after too many nights where he woke alone, his pounding heart the only sound in his ears.

The last time the comlink rang in the dead of night, Maul murmured an apology as he picked up the call, petting Obi-Wan’s hair as he dealt with a traitorous underling. Soothing and soporific, even as Maul brought death to some poor unfortunate sod. Too tired to muse over the juxtaposition, Obi-Wan had fallen back asleep.

There is none of that tonight.

Maul hisses lowly at the familiar ring. Obi-Wan’s eyes blearily blink open, the passing stars outside the window providing the only illumination in their bedroom.

Maul does not reach for him as he answers the call. He watches Maul’s abdominal muscles ripple as he sits up, his thumb jabbing the button. “Report.” Only his voice’s natural smoothness saves it from being a bark.

Harried details filter over the comlink, too hushed and frenzied for Obi-Wan to entirely make out. He catches snatches such as “disintegrated shipment,” “mutiny,” “heads on a pike.” Or was it “head of the Pykes?” His eyes are already slipping closed, sleep beckoning him back into its embrace.

Maul’s cool voice cuts through the haze, sounding distant. “I see. Deliver my personal apologies to the Pykes. Try to make it sound actually sincere, if you can.”

High-pitched, frantic words.

An impatient growl. “Yes, do what you must to salvage our alliance.”

It’s clear Maul just wants this conversation over. Obi-Wan lets himself smile. So he  _ can  _ be cranky when he’s running on too little sleep.

The comlink clicks off, letting silence seep in, broken only by Maul’s panting. The harsh breathing speeds up, and Obi-Wan’s eyelids slowly flutter. A foreboding feeling swirls and settles over him.

Then there’s a snarl and a metallic crunching sound. 

Obi-Wan’s eyes fly open, all drowsiness fleeing his mind. “Lights!” He calls out, and the station’s programming obeys his command.

As the room brightens he sees Maul kneeling on their bed, his back hunched over. A tattooed hand is closed into a fist, bits of machinery on the bedspread before him. The remnants of the comlink.

“Was the news that bad?” he says, weakly instead of wryly.

There’s no answer, not even a shift in posture. Maul’s hand unclenches, stretching open enough to let the loose pieces fall to their bed. A few are embedded in his palm, with traces of blood already welling up.

“You’re bleeding,” Obi-Wan says, dumbly.

Maul’s eyes drift down to his palm. His eyes are glassy, staring without truly seeing. 

The words that escape are whisper-quiet, almost too muted for Obi-Wan to catch. “My chains were cut. Yet sometimes, I still feel their phantom weight.” He’s quick to close his hand, driving the embedded pieces in deeper.

“No, don’t!” Obi-Wan manages an ungainly leap over to his lover, his hand clasping around Maul’s wrist. “You’ll only hurt yourself more.”

Though his face remains calm, Obi-Wan cringes inwardly. Maul is neither a fool nor a child; of course he realizes that his actions will bring him more pain.

Maul’s response proves as much.

“There is no pain where there is strength.” It lacks the expected sneer and disdain for vulnerability. Instead, he has a singsong air of repetition, reciting a schoolboy’s lesson that’s been drilled in deep and lingers decades later.

“Let’s see if you still say that after you develop a nasty infection.” What would have been smooth snark in other circumstances comes out shaken and unsure.

He shifts closer to Maul, sitting beside him on their bed. He feels Maul’s body trembling from his uneven breathing, falling just a few shudders shy of a dry sob. Obi-Wan’s fingers move to cover Maul’s hand, a quiet plea in his touch to open up. 

Maul’s fingers tighten reflexively, instinctively resisting an attempt to overpower him. For a second he debates the wisdom of gently prying open Maul’s fist anyway, but decides to try another trick first.

He opens himself to the Force and the bond growing (flourishing, really) between him and Maul. Maul does not seem… _ present _ enough in this moment to notice the drop in his mental shields.

What flows back to him is hot anger, turbulent and roiling with no immediate target save for Maul; a sorrow that edges on grief and is tinged with fear; and a pain that stretches beneath the skin, devouring the inside because it cannot find another release. His surface thoughts focus on centering himself through  _ more _ pain; distracting from the old with new and following the fallacy of fighting fire with fire.

“Please, Maul,” he says, drifting calming feelings to Maul like boats on an ocean. “Let me help you.” His hand closes over Maul’s, his fingers mimicking an intimate interlacing.

Maul’s head remains bent forward, not meeting his gaze, but some of the tension leaves his body. His hand relaxes enough for Obi-Wan to coax back his fingers.

The pieces are deeper now, and the cuts look ready to swallow them if they grow bigger. Obi-Wan bites back a sigh, unsure how Maul will take it.

Instead, he tugs gently at Maul’s arm, a silent request to follow him to the refresher. The medkit should be sufficient for this.

Maul’s head rises and his eyes meet Obi-Wan’s, dim golden orbs finally sharpening with some clarity.

“Kenobi,” he growls faintly.

“Yes, it’s me.” Obi-Wan doesn’t inquire which Kenobi he’s seeing right now. This is a welcome return to, well, if not lucidity than verbosity. “Come with me and let’s get you cleaned up.”

“I’m not so weak as to need your help.”

He holds back a groan. Of course, Maul would be a difficult patient. Undoubtedly, he’ll be worse if an infection does set in. “Maul, please come with me. You’re not weak, you’re strong and I know it. But you’re also hurt.”

He could go and grab the medkit, bring it back here. Or push Maul to take care of himself, if he insists on independence. 

However, he fears leaving Maul alone right now, even for a few seconds. And… he wants to take care of Maul. He wants Maul to _realize_ he’s not alone. 

Despite Maul’s refusal, he has made no move to break out of his gentle grip. It would be all too easy, he is only cradling the man’s hand. But he seems just as hesitant to move away.

Obi-wan’s free hand moves slowly, telegraphing its trajectory so Maul can push him away. He remains still, letting Obi-Wan settle his hand against Maul’s cheek. His thumb traces over the tattoos there. 

Maul unknowingly transmits the tingles he feels from the touch across the Force. Those few sparks of feeling lighten his being. It’s not quite happiness, closer to relief.

Obi-Wan reluctantly retreats from the connection so that Maul will not feel too much from his end. His thumb continues to follow the tattoos. “Please, let me help you.”

Unbidden, he remembers the lessons his masters taught him about taming animals. The patience needed to reach a wild beast, particularly one cornered and in pain. Though Maul is not  _ quite  _ as bad as that pack of Gutkurrs he soothed on Ryloth.

Maul exhales as he leans into the caress, a sag in his shoulders. “Do as you will.” The tone is subdued, less concessionary and more defeated.

Obi-Wan moves off the bed without releasing Maul’s wrist. Metallic footsteps follow him as they exit the bedroom. 

The station’s machinery faintly hums as they walk the halls to the refresher, Obi-Wan leading them by the hand. He tells himself the touch is to ground Maul, but there is a selfish part that refuses to let go — to give Maul the chance to disappear.

Still, he has to release Maul for a few brief seconds to grab the medkit. He places the open container on the counter and reaches inside, slipping on translucent skin-gloves before grabbing a pair of small, sterilized forceps. 

“Hold still,” he says, and Maul freezes in place. Obi-Wan distantly notes he seems to have stopped breathing while he carefully removes the pieces one by one, tossing them in the miniature garbage chute.

He risks a glance with the Force to ensure no pieces remain, then picks up a disinfectant spray.

“This may hurt.” He can’t quite hold back a snort. “Heh, look at who I’m saying this to.” 

Maul doesn’t flinch at the stinging liquid. Finally, Obi-Wan wraps bacta strips around the hand, pressing down so they follow the palm’s curves.

He runs his thumb over the bacta strips, testing how they flex with pressure. Then he gives a wan smile at his work. “Better.”

Following a whim, he presses a soft kiss against the back of Maul’s knuckles. Perhaps there is a slight catch to Maul’s breathing then, or perhaps he’s tired and simply imagining things.

He moves aside to toss the skin-gloves and put the spray and forceps away. He only manages to get the gloves off before Maul’s unharmed hand lands on his shoulder.

“Leave it.” 

He allows Maul to pull him back, stopping only a step away. Maul’s wrapped hand tips his chin up, the touch delicate. His eyes search for answers Obi-Wan doubts he has. Finally, a small question escapes him. 

“Why?”

Obi-Wan’s chest turns hollow at the question. “You were in pain. That wasn’t something I could stand to watch.” His hand travels up Maul’s arm, fluttering for a moment before settling on the back of his neck.

He’s not sure who moves first, but suddenly they’re kissing with none of their usual ferocity. It starts as a quiet kiss that’s barely more than a press of lips. Just two people falling into a gentle rhythm, moving with each other. Instead of one long kiss, it evolves into a series of successive ones, seeking out the reassuring warmth of another.

_ You’re here? _ Maul asks without speaking, kissing his cheeks, his eyes, before finally reclaiming his mouth.

He answers without words, firmly pressing back.  _ Yes, I’m here. _

They eventually break apart, though Maul continues to lean ever so slightly into his space. He heeds the unspoken request, winding his arms around Maul in a loose hold.

He braves the question he’s held back until now. “Do you want to talk about it?”

Maul’s eyes glint dangerously and his lips curl back, exposing his teeth in a snarl. “No.”

“It’s all right, you don’t have to.”

He is extremely curious what brought this all on — it must be more than just the call. A nightmare? A late-night existential crisis? He often experienced both on Tatooine, alone with nothing but the dark and his thoughts. 

But he won’t press the issue.

Obi-Wan’s hands move in circles on Maul’s back. “Come back to bed?”

A nod is his only answer.

Obi-Wan releases his embrace but is quick to lace his fingers with Maul’s uninjured hand. His grip is unneeded to guide Maul back to their bedroom, but something inside him settles at the touch. The feeling seems mutual; Maul squeezes his hand tight as if trying to keep something from taking him away.

He sweeps the comlink pieces out of the bed and onto the floor, noting their position so he won’t cut his feet in the morning. He resettles on the mattress, feels the shifting weight from Maul doing the same.

“Lights off.” The room plunges back into near darkness.

Of course, he cannot fall asleep that easily now. The quiet is a burden rather than something restful, weighed down by things unsaid.

Maul’s voice cuts through the darkness, hushed and low. “You must think me weak.”

He turns to face Maul, though the dark clouds his vision. “No, why would I?” He answers before Maul can, though he doubts a reply was forthcoming. ”Because there are things in this world that can hurt you?”

The unreadable silence hits far too close to a ‘Yes.’

He sighs, exhausted yet wide awake. “Nobody is impervious to pain, and we can’t always turn that pain into strength. Sometimes things that hurt us… just hurt.”

He draws in a ragged breath. “And some pains never truly go away. We just bear them as best we can.”

The fall of the Jedi Order, the loss of what had been his first home. Anakin’s willful betrayal and Cody’s unwilling one. So much death that night, every murdered Jedi echoing through the Force and creating a cacophony. Then the terrible silence that followed, the void where darkness rushed in.

And older wounds, ever ready to resurface — the comrades and civilians he had seen die, unable to help. Their last expressions, the words that had died on their lips. Starvation, devastation, annihilation.

Nights during the war where he fell asleep from sheer exhaustion, only to wake up a few hours later still tired, still facing a fight. Worse nights where sleep eluded him, though he knew how desperately he needed it; how many people counted on him to be at his best.

A helpless feeling threaded them all together and, during his darker moments, curled around him in a suffocating grasp. The helplessness continued into his present as he watched his neighbors on Tatooine struggle to eke out an existence, bullied by Jabba’s goons and beaten down by the suns.

By contrast, Ben Kenobi’s past was blissfully nonexistent, filled in only as needed. And while Ben Kenobi may be many things — sharpshooter, tactician, spy, mediator, lover, confidant, and always first and foremost a liar — and he could yet become much more, “helpless” was not a word that applied to him.

“I’ve seen your scars, you’ve seen mine. But not all of them are on the outside. And you’re not weak if they sometimes cause you pain.”

Maul’s reply is subdued, an uncertain confession creeping out. “He didn’t think I was strong enough.”

Words, his words from a lifetime ago, replay in his mind.  _ “It takes strength to resist the dark side. Only the weak embrace it.” _

He truly didn't understand Maul then, did he? No wonder his attempt to form a connection, establish how he knew him and his past, fell so flat.

Then again, he’s hardly the only being who impacted Maul’s life. He doubts he’s even the greatest influence, despite all the esteem Maul holds Obi-Wan Kenobi in. Arrogant to assume it’s his words Maul is thinking of.

“Whoever said that was wrong. You’re enough.” He echoes Maul’s words to him that last night on Tatooine.

A dry laugh with a hint of unhingement. “I pay well for your company and pretty words like that. That’s what’s enough.”

He can’t entirely deny the unfortunate truth there. Without all of Maul’s resources, including the ability to protect Luke better than he could alone, he would not have followed him off of Tatooine.

He cannot admit a higher duty bound him to Tatooine, rather than a wholly personal rejection of Maul. But perhaps there are parts of the truth he can tell.

“I didn’t have to call you back,” he says lightly. “It was rather clear I would be inviting trouble if I did, between the Black Sun logo and your passionate nature.” 

He shifts in the darkness. “I confess I even thought of taking the communicator far out into the desert and burying it.”

“But, you were intriguing.” And he had been desperate to keep Luke out of harm’s way. Ready to court danger on his behalf. “So I took the chance to see what you wanted. I only thought of you, and nothing more.”

Arms seek him out in the darkness, encircling him. “I would have looked for you if you hadn’t called.” The words come out soft enough to sound reassuring instead of threatening.

“Flattered though I am, Tatooine is a bigger planet than you might think. There are ways to hide if I didn’t want to be found.”

He moves until he’s pressed flush against a warm chest. There’s a slight coolness where metal hips meet Obi-Wan’s back. “But... I think I did want to be found.”

Quiet reigns again, peaceful now and not bloated. Maul holds him close, a shield blocking out the world. 

Obi-Wan feels him lean his head down. Carefully, lightly, so his horns are no more than a pricking sensation against Obi-Wan’s skin. Lips press a gentle kiss against the back of his neck, breaking away but remaining close enough to breathe in his scent.

Maul is the first to fall back asleep, soul-deep exhaustion dragging him under. Rarely does he drift off before Obi-Wan, just as he wakes before Obi-Wan. 

The unwanted thought flickers through Obi-Wan’s mind.  _ He trusts you _ . It tastes like bile, sour and corrosive, on his tongue.

He closes his eyes and focuses on Maul’s breathing, even and steady now. A dreamless sleep eventually claims him.

* * *

_ Maul rarely experiences sleep disorientation. It isn’t a luxury his life has afforded him. When he wakes, it is with a full understanding of where he is and what he needs to do next. _

_ Still, sometimes his guard slips. The comlink’s ringing pierces the veil of sleep, and for a second he forgets where and what he is.  _

_ Even in drowsiness, the shape of his first thought is clear. Seconds later there is clarity, with a rush of anger and hatred turned inward instead of outward, as would be proper.  _

_ He clicks the button, and the ringing stops. The panicked babbling filtering over the comlink does not receive his full attention, his mind dominated still by the reminder that there is only so much of his own person he will ever be. _

**_What does my Master require?_ **

**Author's Note:**

> So I’ve been reading the old Darth Maul Journal kid’s chapter book that came out around the time of the Phantom Menace, to compare it to Wrath. And one of the first things that caught my eye was a mention that Maul slept with a comlink because he was always “on call” for Sidious. Started thinking hey, you know, that’s still a handy habit to keep up later on, especially as a busy crime lord. Wondered to CC if that meant he ever woke up dazed and thinking he was still in Sidious’s service. We both cried at that.
> 
> The book may also contain the first instance of Maul’s mantra “There is no pain where there is strength,” that shows up again in _Darth Plagueis_ at least, which I finally finished reading.
> 
> Also of interest, the journal states that teen!edgelord!Maul’s favorite time of day is sunset because the red hues Coruscant’s buildings reflect makes him think of spilled Jedi blood. That tidbit is absolutely showing up in another work.
> 
> Which brings me to a quick announcement. CC asked me if I would be interested in co-writing the revelation fic with them, and I of course said yes. So you can expect the first installment of _Swimming With the Sharks Until We Drown_... eventually? Within a few weeks, hopefully.
> 
> If you're still feeling sad, think about how this verse is essentially "Be Gay, Do Crime." Also to cheer you up, they’re definitely both at least shirtless while all of this is happening.


End file.
